Living Up to Our Dreams

I thought we could live up to our dreams all those years we were raising our kids – and those we had before we gave birth to them. We did sometimes. Other times, we didn’t. We did everything possible, though. Can we find fault with that? Yes. And, no.

It’s so rare parents find absolute answers to anything related to raising kids. A firm yes. A firm no. Those answers just don’t often figure into parenthood. All it takes is one kid asking a question with many variables, and we have to admit there’s no perfect answer. There are many answers, perfect and imperfect. All valid. Many difficult.

Today, I was reminded of long-ago summer nights at Disneyland, when my brother and I watched The Lovin’ Spoonful play on the stage that rose from the ground, next to the hamburger stand underneath the ride called something like Rocket to the Moon (?). Tony, a coworker and friend, was on his way to Southern California with his wife today, for a visit to the Magic Kingdom, and we talked about the Disneyland of our yesteryears. He told me the underground stage is still there.

Nothing about Disneyland today can bring back those years when Emmitt and I paid our $12 entry fees just to watch those shows. We saw some great bands there. By the time I visited Disneyland with my kids in the 80s and 90s, everything had changed. The last time I was there with Nat and Owen, about 10 years ago, there were no more rock bands playing in that very small, but very cool, arena. My kids never experienced those old days in the late 60s and early 70s, when you could just pay your entry fee, avoid the rides, and rock to the popular sounds of the day, walk back to the parking lot, and review your night over and over on the hour-long drive home, with the memories of music that would someday end up on YouTube. I never imagined it this way either.

2 Responses to “Living Up to Our Dreams”

Memory Lane is a good place to visit – but maybe not a good place to live all the time. Getting the balance right isn’t easy when you lose someone special though – it took me ages to realise it is always there for me to go to whenever I need it – somehow that gave me permission to be in the here and now without feeling panic.

Welcome to a blog I never wanted to write…

Reading the page below entitled, "Mystery O. Riley" will give you some background, and if you find our mystery something you'd like to follow, please come back often. Losing our 20-year-old son isn't the way it's supposed to be, as we always hear people say. But, for some of us, it is the way it is. And, there's nothing to do, but find a path on this unthinkable road, through an unimaginable forest of grief, and in our case...an unforgiveable river of mystery.